Columnists

I'm Not There: Mystery burrito

What manner of burrito is this? Who delivered it? Where did it come from? Should I eat it? (Seth McConnell / The Denver Post)

Fritz

On Friday, I rolled into work and discovered a burrito on my desk.

"Whoa, dude," I said, throwing my jacket and purse down and turning to Billy on my right. "Did you get me a burrito? Because I could totally be into second breakfast today."

"No," he said.

I looked around the cubicles. I got a burrito and Billy didn't, so this wasn't one of those Burritos for Everyone days.

I spent the next few minutes asking folks if they had a) given me a burrito or b) received a burrito themselves. Suddenly, I was feeling like a braggart. I might as well have gotten on the intercom and shouted, "Looks I'm the only one who got a burrito as a present today! Suck it!"

I immediately stopped interrogating people about the burrito, sat back down at my desk and tried to work.

I had been out the previous day, and the burrito had not been there Wednesday night when I left, so I could safely assume it showed up sometime between 7 p.m. Wednesday and 9:16 a.m. Friday. This quickly put the burrito in a different light. Was this an old burrito or a new burrito? I couldn't take it any longer and began an email addressed to the entire team.

There's a mystery burrito on my desk. I super duper want to eat it, even though I had a breakfast sandwich about 30 minutes ago. But is it a trick burrito? A burrito from two days ago?

Does anyone know the origins and meaning of this burrito?

Advertisement

Love,

J9

I received a message immediately.

It was a picture of a dog wrapped in a blanket saying, "They said I could be anything. So I became a burrito."

Not helpful.

"Is the burrito warm?" asked Billy. "It looks to be the right size for Santiago's. Eat it. The worst thing that happens is you get sick and have to go home early."

As always, Billy made an excellent point.

I decided to check with one more person, my Friday lunch bestie, Jim. He too, had a burrito on his desk, and he also didn't know where it had come from.

"I CAN tell you it wasn't here yesterday," he said.

"So you and I have burritos," I said, as he put his headphones back on and swiveled away. "And they arrived sometime between Thursday at 6:05 p.m. and 9:15 p.m. this morning. It's either someone who likes both of us — or hates us."

I went back to the desk, unwrapped the burrito and took a tentative bite.

"I think it's fine," I told Billy, who had already put his headphones back in and moved on with his life. "I'm going to eat it."

Just then, my boss wandered past. "Oh, you figured out where that came from?"

"No," I said, taking another bite.

The look on her face was a mixture of horror, amazement and disbelief, aka "Oh no, you didn't."

But I had. And I did it again and again, until the whole burrito was gone.

Later that afternoon, I learned that Rita in classifieds had brought them in that morning.

I told Billy immediately, to which he responded, "So, it was from Burrita?"

Article Comments

We reserve the right to remove any comment that violates our ground rules, is spammy, NSFW, defamatory, rude, reckless to the community, etc.

We expect everyone to be respectful of other commenters. It's fine to have differences of opinion, but there's no need to act like a jerk.

Use your own words (don't copy and paste from elsewhere), be honest and don't pretend to be someone (or something) you're not.

Our commenting section is self-policing, so if you see a comment that violates our ground rules, flag it (mouse over to the far right of the commenter's name until you see the flag symbol and click that), then we'll review it.

The Boulder alt-country band gives its EPs names such as Death and Resurrection, and its songs bear the mark of hard truths and sin. But the punk energy behind the playing, and the sense that it's all in good fun, make it OK to dance to a song like "Death." Full Story